


The Pictures Will Fade; The Memories Will Come Back

by sweeterthankarma



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Background Kat Edison/Adena El-Amin - Freeform, Background Sutton Brady/Alex Crawford, Background Sutton Brady/Jane Sloan, Closeted Character, F/F, Family Secrets, Photographs Cause Feelings, Self-Discovery, because Jane is a tiny disaster gay with a million crushes, because richard is boring and alex is good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Jane fights back the tears as she flips through the photos: graduation, sleepovers, camp, then college dorms and tables filled with beers and then, there, amidst everything else and so simple Jane almost doesn’t even notice— her mother holding hands with a girl.It’s almost imperceptible, but the next picture they’re kissing and the one after that has the words “10 month anniversary” scrawled across the bottom in faded Sharpie.It feels like she’s never been closer to her mother, and yet she doesn’t know her at all.or,Jane gets a box of photos of her mother from her estranged aunt and they inspire feelings she's been bottling for too long, especially towards her boss.





	The Pictures Will Fade; The Memories Will Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Jane's family angst and wanted to add to it, while also dabble in Janequeline along the way. Couldn't remember if Jane's aunt was ever mentioned in the show, so I created her, hence the original character tag.

Jane doesn’t usually get mail.

It’s a strange enough thing for Sutton to be home from work before her, and even more so for her to be greeted her with a box in hand, saying it had been on the doorstep for hours and she didn’t want to leave it out any longer in fear of it being stolen.

    “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch a cab home with you, Oliver had me picking up clothes all over town and by the end of it all, I was just down the block,” Sutton points out the window as she speaks, “and so he just let me take the clothes home.”

    “Weird,” Jane replies, and it is. She notices all the _definitely expensive_ outfits on a rack in the corner of the room and there’s a dress that she’d definitely be all over on any other given day, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the label on the package. She walks into her bedroom without looking away, and ignores Sutton when she calls, “by the way, who’s Tracy?”

Jane doesn’t think she can answer that. Besides the fact she hasn’t seen or heard from her in over two year, she doesn’t know her. Not really, at least. She’s her aunt, but how much can someone be considered family if you never see them?

Jane tears open the box and can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to live in Florida, where Tracy lives.

The distance is a factor for the estrangement, sure, but she’d never really tried to stay in Jane’s life either. Jane didn’t necessarily expect her to, but it would have been nice, especially since they’d both lost a person that was so important to them. But that didn’t happen, and while Jane didn’t really mind too much— she had found her own family through Sutton and Kat, and all of her Scarlet coworkers if she’s going to be sappy— it’s a strange thing to spontaneously hear from her. She doesn’t know how Tracy even found her address; maybe she’d gave it to her a few Christmases ago. She can’t remember.

Jane’s breath catches in her throat as soon as she sees the first few items in the box. An old high school sweatshirt. Photographs. Bracelets. A note.

 

_Jane,_

 

_Hope you’re doing well in New York. I read your articles sometimes in the checkout line of the grocery store. You made a cover story, that’s cool. I cleaned out my basement and found some things of my sister’s, of your mother’s that I thought you should have. I have a few of her other things, if you ever come visit you can see them._

 

_Best,_

_Aunt Tracy_

 

It’s short and ineloquent, kind of like her. Tracy was always needing help reaching for anything on a top shelf, and as a little kid, Jane had sympathized. Now, she hopes she’s taller than her, even if just by an inch.

It’s an irritating note. She’s put off by the lack of emotion and clear disinterest in her life, and feels obviously mocked. She deserved these items years ago, she deserved a piece of her mother that was more than the home she lived in and the bed she slept in and her favorite mugs. Her father threw everything else out, and while she understands his rationale, it was impulsive and a mistake. And Jane is a lot of things, but she’s not impulsive, not at her core. She can pretend, but no matter what, she’ll go home and overthink.

She already knows that’s what she’s going to do tonight. She’s filled with anger and sadness and confusion and regret— should she reach out to Aunt Tracy more? What about her cousins she hasn’t spoken to in awhile? Or even her father...does he have anything left of her mother?

It always comes back to her mother. Always. Jane is who she is because of her, and she wonders far too often if she’d be someone better if she’d grown up with two parents. Even if it was wishful, pointless thinking, it’s a possibility that intrigues her.

    “You’re a good person in every universe, in every possible reality, I’m sure of that,” Kat had said the first time Jane had spoken these thoughts aloud.

    “And always tiny,” Sutton had added with a laugh.

Jane’s mother was tiny, too. Especially in high school— she was the shortest in her friend group, her prom date a clean shaven man a whole foot taller than her. Jane fights back the tears as she flips through the photos: graduation, sleepovers, camp, then college dorms and tables filled with beers and then, there, amidst everything else and so simple Jane almost doesn’t even notice— her mother holding hands with a girl.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the next picture they’re kissing and the one after that has the words “10 month anniversary” scrawled across the bottom in faded Sharpie.

There’s plenty of photos of her with boys, but there’s more with girls, timestamps spanning across decades, and when Jane goes back to the beginning of the pile, she notices things she didn’t before. Eye contact between her mother and another woman as the camera captured them, unaware, and then later, a tiny poster of a rainbow almost completely covered by another girl’s body.

Jane’s hands shake as she piles up the pictures, puts them back into the box and slides it under her bed. When she stands up, she has to peek back down to make sure they’re still there, that she didn’t imagine it and all the fragments of her mother are still existing in the same world as her.

They are, and she should feel relief about it, and she kind of does, but there’s a deep coil of unnerve in the pit of her stomach. It feels like she’s never been closer to her mother, and yet she doesn’t know her at all.

She doesn’t sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

She can’t stop thinking about it.

Part of her thinks it’s an explanation, a subconscious trait she took from her: the ability to love girls, that is, as if it’s as simple and obvious and unavoidable as having brown hair and brown eyes. It _should_ be that easy, but how can it be? Not when America had only just legalized gay marriage and the now sitting president completely dismisses that fact...and when she has a ridiculous crush on her much older boss.

Another part of her thinks it’s just a coincidence. Whether it’s nature or nurture that’s resulted in the emotional mess of a human she is, she’s confused about it, and it’s more trouble than she needs.

Adena meets Kat at the Safford lobby for breakfast, and Jane looks away when they kiss. She feels guilty for it, especially when she’s not at all judging— she’s _jealous,_ after all— but her mind is hazy and she’s trying to clear it. Their love— their beautiful, perfect love— is just another reminder of what she’s trying to forget, at least for now.

_My mother wasn’t straight._

Jane doesn’t know how to bring it up in conversation.

_And neither am I._

That’s an even harder topic.

    “Um, I’m gonna head upstairs,” Jane says awkwardly as she stands, waiting for Sutton. She has her head buried in her phone, texting Oliver while trying to keep the various handbags she has lined up her arm from falling off her shoulder.

    “‘Kay, see you later,” Sutton says, without looking up. Jane drags her feet all the way up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t mention the photos that night, doesn’t even answer Sutton when she asks about the package.

    “You never get gifts,” she comments through dinner, and then frowns. “It makes me sad.”

    “You don’t either,” Jane replies.

Sutton shrugs.  “I have a boyfriend, so I kind of do.”

Jane rolls her eyes. She and Alex had only been together for a month or so before she got a delivery of roses _and_ chocolate covered strawberries in the mail, and she had announced with her typical clarity, “guys, honestly, I swear I could marry him.” Jane knows she was joking, but only a little bit.

Jane doesn’t mind their extravagance, but only because she actually knows Alex. She doesn’t have to be wary of him like other men Sutton has dated because she knows where his motivations lie, and she knows that _he knows_ she and Kat will kick his ass if he breaks Sutton’s heart.

    “But I don’t need him to buy me gifts, and you don’t need anyone to do that for you, either,” Sutton decides, and they toast to that.

    “I really don’t think any guy is good enough for my Jane, though, really,” she adds a few minutes later, after Kat has joined them.

    “Agreed,” she says, taking a seat beside her and nudging a quick kiss to the top of her head. “But…” she teases, dragging out the syllables, “a girl could be.”

Jane must have a ridiculous expression on her face because both Kat and Sutton laugh. Jane almost chokes on her drink.

    “Seriously, Adena has treated me better than any other guy ever has,” Kat says, and Jane tries not to interpret it as bragging.

    “Yeah, girls are great,” Sutton adds. “Remind me why I’m dating Alex?”

It’s a joke, but Jane’s eyes shoot up to Sutton’s face, watching her expression. It’s not a confession, it’s not a way to open up the conversation, it’s not even a switch in the topic because it’s stirred Kat to talk about the drama of two women trying to find a time to have sex when their periods are on different schedules. Jane pretends to laugh even though she’s not listening, and she curses how close she is with Kat and Sutton because they both can tell she’s not herself. When she excuses herself, she goes through the pictures again and they don’t knock on her door.

They do text her, though; Sutton sends a sweet _“whatever’s bothering you, just know we’re here and we love you!”_ and Kat adds, “ _we’re making you brownies, btw!”_

Jane tries not to imagine the idea of Sutton with a girl. She especially tries not to imagine the idea of Sutton with _her,_ because as if crushing on her boss wasn’t bad enough, she also might have a tiny bit of a fixation on her best friend too. All long blond waves and freckles and firm morals, she’s sure of herself in a way Jane never has been, and she admires her drive as much as she appreciates the sight of her in a sleek black dress, red lipstick coating her lips as she flashes a smile towards Jane before she heads out on a date with Alex. It had happened two days ago, and Jane’s still hung up on it, the vision mixing in her mind every time she tries to sleep, along with the faint memory of Jacqueline in a gold pantsuit.

She heaves a deep sigh as she falls onto her bed. She’s a _mess._

 

* * *

 

Jane almost calls out of work the next day, and as soon as she sits down into the staff meeting, she wishes she did. Jacqueline is bright eyed and awake, while she’s groggy and yawning, and she gives her a stern look when she sees her prop her elbow on the table and rest her chin in the palm of her hand, lazy. She quickly corrects herself, straightening, even as Jacqueline’s face softens with a smile.

    “You alright, Jane?” she asks, quiet as to not clue the rest of the employees into any issue. It’s a subtle kindness, and Jane appreciates it.

    “Tired,” she admits, and Jacqueline rests a quick, soothing hand on her shoulder. Jane looks up and meets her eyes for a moment, but before she can appreciate it or say anything else Jacqueline moves to the front of the room and starts the meeting.

Jane’s eyelids are heavy as she watches Jacqueline present the latest stats on the magazine, and she’s not paying too much attention until she hears the words “pride special” and her head instantly shoots up.

Jacqueline notices and gives her a sly smile. “Interested?”

Jane’s heart plummets in her chest as she stutters for an excuse, but Jacqueline dismisses her and doesn’t wait for an answer. “I was thinking you would be a good fit for this piece.”

Jane doesn’t have time to ask why.

    “So I want you to interview every staff member and ask them to describe what pride means to them in just a few words. Regardless of their sexual orientation, everyone at Scarlet should be open and accepting, and if they’re not, send them my way and we’ll talk. Got that?”

Jane nods as she scrawls down the key points in her notebook. Jacqueline explains the pitch in further detail— a pride special in February rather than June, reminding the world that LGBT people should be celebrated and respected year round. Jane still isn’t paying as much attention as she should, even though Jacqueline is standing before her, looking glorious as she speaks about same sex love, but she’s a little preoccupied with wondering why and how her life works in such twisted, ironic ways.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, she musters up the courage to knock on Jacqueline’s door.

    “Come on in, Jane,” she says, and her casual tone only makes Jane more nervous.

She walks with purpose, intertwines her fingers when she sits and pretends they aren’t shaking.

    “I wanted to talk to you about my piece,” she starts, and her voice conveys far more strength than she feels. “I don’t know if it’s right for me.”

    “How so?” Jacqueline asks.

    “Well, I…” Jane can’t say she isn’t apart of the LGBT community, she’s not a good liar, especially not when it comes to Jacqueline. The words would sting on her tongue for days, they burn just to think about, and after everything she’s learned about her mother she can’t deny that truth anymore. It’s hard to admit, but harder to ignore. She doesn’t want to do either right now, though, she just wants to get out of this situation.

It’s not even a bad job, it’s an easy task especially compared to the pieces she’s usually assigned, but still, she sits before Jacqueline and knows there’s more she needs to say.

She needs to tell her about her mother. She doesn’t have any other reason on why she can’t The words come out of her mouth fast, before she can second guess herself or decide better of it, and the weight that lifts off her chest with the truth revealed is enough to make her audibly gasp once she finishes her sentence. Jacqueline reaches over to hold her hand, quick and easy like she’s done it a thousand times— because, well, she has— and Jane tries not to react to it. She needs comforting, Jacqueline is there to give it to her. She’s like the mother she always needed.

Except not like a mother at all.

It should be motherly, she thinks, and then she starts wondering if maybe she’s wrong for feeling otherwise. Jacqueline could be a perfect mother figure and she knows Jane well enough, maybe that’s what her touch is implying anyways, maybe Jane is fucked up and wrong for imagining a world where an older woman like her could ever love a tiny, barely adult like her, or at least feel anything more than sympathy for her. But then Jane shifts and Jacqueline’s hand doesn’t move, it stays on top of hers on her thigh, skin brushing skin just enough, and Jane dares to meet her eyes. She’s staring her down, as always.

    “I don’t know what to make of it,” Jane says, and it’s half about her mother, half about the woman before her.

    “How so?” Jacqueline answers. “I assume it means she likes girls.”

    “Yeah, no, I know that, I get that.” She stumbles to cover up her words, hoping Jacqueline wasn’t wondering if that was a confession. Unintentional or not, Jane said that she _gets_ that, implying that she feels the same, and she’s just ready to dig herself a grave at this point.

    “I mean, I understand. The pictures, I mean. What they mean. I just feel like it’s changed my perception of how I feel about her.”

    “Why?” Jacqueline says, eyebrows raised, and Jane is quick to put her hands up in defense.

    “No, not like that, it’s totally fine, it’s...great, even. It’s just...I feel like I never really knew her, and now I feel like I do even more, and with every new piece of information it makes me feel connected to her.”

    “Jane, do you like girls?” Jacqueline asks then, so simply, as if it wasn’t the biggest, most insurmountable question in the world.

The words would have knocked Jane flat on her feet if she hadn’t been sitting.

    “Do you?” Jane almost snaps in retort, not thinking, and she flushes red immediately. She’s _really_ going to need to pick up a shovel on her way home.

    “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate,” she starts, but Jacqueline holds a hand up, cutting her off.

    “Yes, I do,” she says, and as soon as the words leave her mouth Jane feels the earth below her shift “I don’t think it’s anything to hide or be afraid of.”

It’s a matter of fact, easy statement that rolls off her tongue, and she doesn’t break Jane’s gaze for even a second. She doesn’t even blink.

Jane is hyper aware of every move she makes and she fidgets in her seat even though she knows she should be still. She needs to be calm, cool and collected, for Jacqueline and for herself. But how is she supposed to be?

    “I…wow. Thank you for confiding in me, you didn’t need to,” Jane says, cordiality dripping off her tongue.

Jacqueline’s hand is on hers again in seconds. “Of course I did. Jane, whatever you need from me, I’m here to give it to you.”

    “Anything?” Jane asks, and it’s almost a dare. To herself, and to Jacqueline. _Almost._

She doesn’t know where this confidence comes from. But she’s a creature of routine and then spontaneity, all sparingly, of course, and she’s started to think she just needs to say what she wants. She’d at least save herself some time that way.

    “Anything,” Jacqueline confirms with a squeeze of Jane’s hand.

Jane swallows hard. “Can I shut the door?”

Jacqueline nods, and Jane lurches out of her seat, rushing to give them privacy. She stands before Jacqueline after, wringing her hands in front of her, and she says her next words like an exhale.

    “Do you see yourself as a mother figure to me?”

Jacqueline’s face implies she wasn’t expecting that question. Her eyebrows quirk, and she says cordially, “not especially, no. You’ve made it most of your life without a mother, I don’t think I could fill that role, nor do I need to.”

Jane nods quick, mostly for her own benefit. She’s thinking.

    “So what are you to me?”

Jacqueline lets out a little laugh at this, and Jane’s breath catches.

    “Whatever you want or need me to be.”

    “Really?”

    “Yes.”

Jane pauses. “You said that before.”

    “Yes,” Jacqueline says again.

Jane starts pacing. “Do you really mean it?”

Jacqueline is smiling at her. “Yes.”

    “Okay,” Jane says, still processing aloud. Jacqueline just watches. It’s ridiculously endearing.

Jane takes another deep breath. “So...can you kiss me? Is that okay? Is that a thing you could do, since, you know, you’re not like a mother to me? I mean, you don’t have to and maybe you shouldn’t because you’re my boss and you’re older than me and you’re married but I just thought that maybe—”

The worlds leave Jane’s mouth in a rush, so quick Jacqueline can’t make out where one question ends and the other begins, but she hears what she needs to, and stands up so they’re face to face. A finger comes up to Jane’s lips, shushing her, and her cheeks stain pink. _Cute,_ Jacqueline thinks.

    “You want me to kiss you,” she says, and Jane squeaks in response. She’s embarassed, but knows she can’t deny it.

    “I mean...if you wanted to...I wouldn’t hate it.” She’s growing more confident with every passing second, and Jacqueline’s heart swells watching her shed her fear. She doesn’t care for her like a mother, not at all, but more so like a mentor, like a boss. Because that’s what she is, after all. But she can’t deny the way she feels towards this woman either.

Jacqueline just keeps smiling at her. “I wouldn’t either.”

And then she does kiss her.

Jane is a detail oriented person, and she knows Jacqueline is too. If this were something for work, she’d drastically ruin it because there’s so many details she can’t keep straight, it’s too overwhelming. Jacqueline’s lips are soft yet firm, perfect on her own, and her hands feel remarkably different from how they feel in her own when they’re light against her cheeks. Jacqueline kisses slow but insistent, sure and confident like everything she does, and Jane is swimming in it, swimming in her, swimming in her eyes when she opens them to find her smiling back at her.

She initiates the next kiss, wrapping a hand around Jacqueline’s shoulders and holding the base of her neck, strong. She presses flush against her, meaning every move she makes, and she loses any and all inhibitions she had.

    “I wanted this,” she says between open mouthed kisses, “for so long.”

She’s getting sloppy, and Jacqueline reciprocates; her teeth brush Jane’s bottom lip, asking, and the smaller girl’s hands trip down her back, a silent admission.

Jacqueline knows what she’s doing. Jane hears their words echo in her mind— _do you like girls? Yes, I do._

She moans loud into another kiss, and pulls away quick, surprised by herself. Jacqueline peers down at her curiously, smile unfading.

Jane stills herself, hand against the collar of Jacqueline’s shirt, and takes a deep breath. “Wow. Okay. Um...so in case you were wondering, yes, I do like girls.”

Jacqueline chuckles. She steps away too quick, smooths down her skirt and tugs her top back in to the hem where Jane had toyed with it, and checks her lipstick in a mirror on the table.

    “Go do your work, Jane,” she says through a grin.

Jane puts her hands on her hips. “Do you really expect me to be able to do that now?”

Jacqueline shrugs. “You’re a professional.”

She’s teasing and Jane knows it. The smile hasn’t faltered from her face. She loves this kind of banter, especially when it comes this easy. They both do.

    “Okay, well…” Jane drawls, waiting.

Jacqueline sits at the edge of her desk, resting a hand on her thigh while she gazes expectantly at Jane.

    “See me at the end of the day,” she says, and Jane nods more enthusiastic than she should. As soon as she gets back to her desk, she shoots Kat and Sutton a text, saying “just got great news, won’t be home tonight at the regular time but I’ll tell you everything soon.” She adds a heart emoji for good measure, and smiles when Sutton replies, “did you get a raise?! I saw you in Jacqueline’s office for a while.”

Kat answers with a side eye emoji, and Jane shoots back, “something like that” before putting her phone away.

Jane thinks she might have to give Aunt Tracy a phone call later. Getting those photographs just might have been the best thing to ever happen to her.

**Author's Note:**

> I miss seeing these lovely characters on my screen and wish we weren't denied of their incredible chemistry together. If you liked this, please let me know, either in the comments or at my Tumblr under the same username, sweeterthankarma!


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